


i've been down

by fubt



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, also mentions adora/catra & glimmer/bow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fubt/pseuds/fubt
Summary: “How come?”“How come, what?”Catra pops in a purple grape, chewing thoughtfully. “Why should I mind my own business, Sparkles? I thought we were friends.” She does her best to sound hurt about it, too. Asshole..or, obligatory self-indulgent post-canon catra&glimmer bonding bc we love narrative foils & insecure gays
Relationships: Catra & Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	i've been down

**Author's Note:**

> idk i havent posted actual fic in over 7 years this should be fun 
> 
> not to sound cliche but tagging??? idk her

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

 _Shit,_ Glimmer has time to think, freezing in place. There’s a faint rustle of footsteps, light against the floor, and then she’s squinting as the faint shape of Catra flickers into view, Melog by her side. The only way Glimmer can tell is by the glow of Catra’s eyes – and whatever she murmurs softly to Melog, only for them to nod and slip away into the quiet hallways.

Leaving them alone.

Catra steps towards her. Even in the dim glow of night, Glimmer can _see_ the smirk on her face, the teasing tilt of her head. “What’re _you_ doing up so late, young lady?” she drawls. “Sneaking around?”

Glimmer stiffens, lets out a not at all convincing haughty huff as she folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask _you_ the same thing,” she says, tersely, doing her best to mask her nerves, the terrible tremble of her heart in her throat. “Are you stalking me?”

Catra snorts. “Stalking you? Why would I wanna stalk _you_?”

“So why are you just – _hanging out_ – in the dark.” Glimmer feels her eyes narrow. “ _Following_ me.”

“Well, _someone’s_ tense,” Catra mutters, which is so _ridiculous_ Glimmer barks out an incredulous little laugh, forgetting, momentarily, about the other hundred-odd occupants of the castle.

“Oh, that’s _rich_! You—”

“—I was gonna get a snack,” Catra cuts her off, all cool airs and thickly laid casualness. She turns around, tail flicking momentarily behind her. As she starts up towards the kitchens, she calls out, “You’re, like, welcome to come with, if you want – or don’t, whatever,” sounding like she couldn’t care less. All Glimmer can do is gape after her, and after a moment of indecision, feeling herself flush with embarrassment and irritation alike, she follows her, keeping as quiet as possible.

Catra’s better at that – the sneaking around, keeping a low profile – even better since finding Melog. Even Glimmer’s teleportation powers, for all their usefulness, don’t make for quiet, stealthy entries – they always puncture through the very seams of the universe, send her flicking in loud and bright. She’s never minded – but now she finds herself cursing her own lack of subtlety.

Catra’s already stacking an assorted array of foods onto a large plate, casually perusing the large fridge with zero a care in the world. Glimmer eyes her warily as she slips into the kitchen, not bothering to switch the light on. It’s safer, somehow, in the dark. Her nerves are wrought with _something_ – some strange punch of anticipation swirling in her gut. Why is she so worried? This is _Catra_.

 _Exactly the problem,_ she thinks grudgingly.

Catra perches herself up on one of the kitchen counters, already poking at a bright slice of cake, tail wrapped around her own knees. She blinks at Glimmer, expression blank. Glimmer blinks _back_ , defiant, tense – terrified.

Then, finally, Catra says, “Hey, what’s that on your neck, Sparkles?” and Glimmer flinches, hackles raising sharp in response.

Her hand flies to her neck (giving her away, no doubt), and she seethes in place, magic simmering around her, spluttering, “What’s that on _my_ – how _dare_ you – who do you—” while Catra _cackles_ at her.

“Oh my god,” Catra says, burying her grin around a mouthful of pink cake. “You are _so_ easy, Sparkles, seriously. _Relax_ for a second, will you?”

Glimmer does – barely. Scowls at her, instead, just to get her point across. “How is this any of your business,” she says, flatly, as her ears burn. “This isn’t—”

“Will you stop getting yourself so worked up over this?” Catra _rolls her eyes at her_ – she really does! “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“The big _deal_ is that it’s _hardly_ any of _your_ business what I do and _don’t_ have on my neck!”

“Oh, so you admit you _do_ have something on your neck?”

“Catra—”

“It’s _fine_ , okay,” Catra reassures her, in a manner most not-reassuring at all. She’s _still_ laughing at her, the jerk, even as her expression remains neutral. _Yeah – neutral, my ass_. “Totally fine. Who cares, really? So, you have a hickey – big whoop.”

“It is _not_ a hickey!” Glimmer hisses. “Just – mind your own business, okay?”

“How come?”

“How come, what?”

Catra pops in a purple grape, chewing thoughtfully. “Why should I mind my own business, Sparkles? I thought we were _friends_.” She does her best to sound _hurt_ about it, too. Asshole.

 _Are we?_ is Glimmer’s first response, unbidden and laced with some distant, familiar hum of fear and distrust. Her second response is, _uh, yeah, duh,_ when she remembers, in stark clarity, Catra’s face as she struggled and yelled for Adora to save Glimmer, to stay away.

(it’s still a little jarring, reconciling _that_ Catra with the one who once kidnapped her and bit her and most certainly would’ve killed her, multiple times, if given the chance – they make it work nowadays, for the most part, Glimmer likes to think, with some strange twinge of pride and perhaps totally misplaced fondness)

 _Definitely totally misplaced,_ she thinks, as Catra smirks at her again, pointing a glaze-covered finger straight at her. “You were _so_ sneaking around,” she says, _gleeful_. “Weren’t you? Getting all hot and heavy with Arrow Boy—”

“He has a _name_ ,” Glimmer snaps, “I _know_ you know it, Catra. You’ve been here for months, I _know_ you know _all_ of our—”

“Fine. With _Bow_. Bow, the love of your life. Is that better?”

Glimmer’s face burns red again. “Oh, _you’re_ one to talk! How’s _Adora_ , huh?”

“Well and fine, thanks,” Catra says, straight-faced. “Actually, she’s _really_ fine, if you really want to know—”

“Ugh, stop! I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Hear what?” Catra blinks at her, innocuous – then one more time, bemused, hand pausing midway to her mouth. “Hey, uh, Sparkles?”

“ _What_?” Glimmer huffs.

“You’re, like, sparkling. Real bad. If you’re not careful, someone might think you’re in trouble.” Catra’s smile shifts into something less teasing, more rueful. “Wouldn’t want them to think I’m _attacking_ you or anything far-fetched like that.”

Glimmer realizes she’s right – there’s light burning up all around them, and a strange creaking, crackling sound in the air. She takes a deep breath, trying to relax, to temper the slip-and-slide of anxiety in her veins.

As the light recedes, leaving behind dark corners and loose shadows, Catra _looks_ at her, all careful consideration. And it’s not that Catra’s never looked at her like that – it’s just strange to realize Catra probably doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. For all her mint-perfect control – for all the _patience_ Perfuma has been drilling into her, firm and gentle all at once – Glimmer realizes she still slips, every now and then. It’s comforting, somewhat. To know Catra’s not totally in control all the time. It makes the strange surge of emotion simmering in Glimmer’s chest feel less embarrassing, shameful, more so inevitable, a fact of life.

 _It’s okay,_ she thinks, and something settles inside herself. Even Catra’s lightly teasing, “You’re really worked up, huh?” doesn’t bother her as much.

She shrugs stiffly. “No.”

“You know, if that _is_ a hickey—”

“ _Catra_ ,” Glimmer warns.

“—that’s like, totally fine. You know that. Don’t you?”

“I—” Glimmer sputters. “Of _course_ I know that. What – why is this such a big deal, anyway? I’ve seen _worse_ on Adora.”

Actually, she hasn’t – well, just the scars, some of them definitely Catra’s handiwork, and not at all in a _friendly_ context. She thinks – hopes so, anyway, for everyone’s sake.

“It _isn’t_ a big deal,” Catra says. “But you’re so making it into one.”

“I am so _not_.”

“Then admit it.” Catra’s stare is piercing – unrelenting. “Admit you were just _hanging out_ with Bow.”

“I – I will do no such thing,” Glimmer says, pompously.

“Why? What’s the big deal? So you were _necking_ your actual _boyfriend_ – it’s fine. Get over it, Sparkles.”

Glimmer turns away from her, digging her fingers into her arms. _Oh, the nerve. Oh, the—_ “He’s not my—” she starts, then stops, realizing her terrible mistake. Oh no. _Oh no, oh—_

“He’s not?” Catra says, curiosity piqued. “Wait, are you serious? I’ve _seen_ you two kissing. You’re not exactly subtle.”

Glimmer says nothing.

“Wait. Sparkles. What the hell?”

Catra stands up, inches close to her. From this angle, in this light, she doesn’t look much taller than Glimmer.

“You’re _serious_ ,” Catra says, baffled.

Glimmer mumbles something unintelligible. Catra actually leans her _very_ sensitive ear to her, apparently keen on pissing her off. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Glimmer glares at her, mutters, “We haven’t figured out the _semantics_ of it yet, okay?” reluctantly. Oh, wow, okay. She’s really doing this. With _Catra,_ of all people. Not Adora, her best friend, or even Bow, or anyone else – _Catra._ The thought leaves her a little dizzy – has it really come to this? It would be funny if she didn’t feel so terrible suddenly, terrible and empty and so _lonely_ — 

Catra’s face is priceless. Too bad Glimmer can’t laugh. “No way. But you – it’s been _months_. What—”

“I don’t _know_ , okay,” Glimmer says, but feels herself sagging and sliding down against a cabinet onto the cold floor. She sighs, rubbing a hand over her eyes. Why is everything so _difficult_? “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” Catra repeats, incredulously. “Are you – you do know who you’re talking to, right?”

“Sorry I never tried to destroy the world out of my _love_ for him,” Glimmer snaps, before she can stop herself. For a moment, she fears she’s gone too far – some part of her _wants_ to have gone too far, if only to let off some steam – but Catra just shrugs, quietly acquiescing.

Huh. Would you look at that. _Even_ Catra’s _more put-together than I am,_ she thinks, bitterly. What is _wrong_ with her?

“Yeah, I did.” So frank about it, too. “Which is why I _know_ nothing can ever be as complicated as what me and Adora have. So. What’s going on?”

“I—”

Catra perches on the floor, cat-like and open and careless, and stares at Glimmer. “You do realize you love him,” she says, incredulous again. “Right?”

Glimmer’s first instinct is to deny it, but she just nods miserably into her own chest. “Yeah. I do.”

“And he loves you.” _Wow, okay._ “ _Please_ tell me you know that.”

“I – I do, Catra.” She does. He _does_. She knows it. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it? Isn’t it that simple?”

“ _You_ of all people should know it’s not.”

“Okay,” says Catra, slowly, “but _I_ of all people know that it actually is.”

And it is, isn’t it, Glimmer thinks, with a muted flare of envy. Catra and Adora’s _love_ for each other can survive anything – wars, mind-controlling chips, multiple murder attempts, an ocean of hurt and resentment. Even _Catra_ , who tried to destroy the whole world in a fit of pain and betrayal – even she can rise above it. And look at her now – thriving and hopeful and happier than she’d ever thought possible.

 _And still sneaking around at night and hiding in corners and mocking me for fun._ Okay, so maybe she’s not _perfect_ yet – but she’s getting there.

And Glimmer? Glimmer has everything she ever could’ve wanted – her friends, _safe_ , Etheria alive and basking in the glow of She-Ra’s healing. Her father, strong and purposeful at her side, helping her with the grueling task of leading a kingdom. Her mother, still gone, but never fading – a quiet, pulsating memory to carry with her. Grief, guilt spilling in place when she thinks about how she never got to see any of _this_. And if she had – if she _is_ seeing it, now, somewhere far away, far removed – what does she think? What does she think of Glimmer, still walking around bearing the brunt of her own failures – the missteps that nearly cost everybody she loves their lives? Her own stubborn, insolent, stupid pride getting in the way. What would she say?

“Wow,” Catra says next to her. “And I thought _I_ was still messed up.”

Glimmer lifts her knees to her chest, rests her chin in the uncomfortable nook they create. “We’re _all_ plenty messed up,” she grumbles. “You don’t have a monopoly on that, you know.”

“I mean, maybe, but—” Catra shakes her head. “You and Arr— Bow always looked like the real deal. You know?”

“I don’t.”

“Far be it from _me_ to judge—”

“Then _don’t_.”

“—but have you tried – I don’t know – _talking_ to him?”

“ _Duh_ , Catra.”

“And…?”

“And…” Glimmer shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You ever think you spend too much time thinking?”

“You ever think I don’t know that?”

A ghost of a smile flickers across Catra’s face as she asks wryly, “You ever gonna stop hating me?”

“Depends,” Glimmer counters, “you ever going to stop giving me _reason_ to?”

“Probably not.”

“Then…” Glimmer sighs again, voice growing small, shoulders falling. “There’s your answer.”

Conversation trails off. Glimmer finally gives in to the urge to wallow in her own self-loathing, dons it as easily as a warm coat on a cold winter’s day, until Catra says, “You’re really down about this, aren’t you?”

“I don’t _know_.” Glimmer is aware she’s pouting. Aware she looks every bit the child she’s been trying not to be.

“Look,” Catra says, strained, none of her earlier teasing in place. Glimmer spares her a glance, notes the faint blush in her skin. “I’m not – I don’t _do_ advice, you know that.”

“Good,” Glimmer says, blankly, “because I don’t want it.”

“But you should just – talk to him?”

“I _have_ , Catra.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Glimmer doesn’t answer. Catra shifts beside her. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Glimmer’s head snaps up, mouth open in a protest, anger shooting through her. “Catra—”

But Catra just shrugs, gaze fixed on the glistening tiles. There’s a smell – the sweets Catra’s pushed aside, something else bright sticking to the air. Pinching. Sharp. Glimmer thinks of her mom, her perfume, the touch of her hand against her cheek, the burn of her words, dismissive, always dismissive, and so, so full concern – and feels herself ache, all over again.

“Catra?”

“You’re scared.” So matter-of-fact. “Aren’t you?”

Glimmer exhales, shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“Yeah, no,” Catra says, “I _know_ fear. Believe me.”

“Afraid of what? _Bow_?” Just the thought leaves her bitter – she _knows_ Bow, trusts him more than anyone, she could never be afraid of _Bow_ —

“No, dumbass. Your _feelings_.” Catra rolls her eyes, but her blush deepens as she waves a harried hand about. “Because, y’know, it’s, uh. Scary. And all.”

“I’m _fine_ with having feelings,” Glimmer says, rolling her eyes too. “Remember? I’m not you. I _like_ having feelings. I am fine with feeling _feelings_.”

“Okay, then you’re scared of losing him.” Catra looks at her. “And of, uh, losing all this. Of maybe fucking it all up. Because you’ve fucked up before. Right?”

 _Wrong_ , some petulant side of her thinks. Glimmer can only stare at her.

Catra sighs. “Well, you’re not alone, Sparkles,” she says, sheepish, but braving on anyway because that’s who she is nowadays, apparently. “We’re all here with you. So just – chill – for like five seconds.”

“ _I_ should chill?”

“Yeah – you.”

“Says _you_.”

“Yeah,” Catra says. “Says me.” She grins, sharp. “Funny, huh, how the tables turn?”

To her surprise, Glimmer finds herself breathing out a laugh. It tapers off towards the end, silence trickling in again. Not quite uncomfortable. Soothing. All that’s missing is the steady hum of engines – sterile-white walls and flashing eyes. The certainty of death, looming ever closer. The desperate desire to turn back time and take away all their mistakes. The two of them, stewing in their own unique brand of shared misery.

 _And cake._ “Hey,” Glimmer says, pointing to Catra’s plate. “Give me one.”

“Get your own,” Catra says. “These are mine.”

“What? You’ll just throw it all out later. You _always_ do that. You never finish anything.”

“Will not.”

“Will _to_.”

“What are you, five?” Catra scoffs but slides the plate over to her.

Glimmer grabs a small, sticky slice of cake, popping it in her mouth and chewing despondently on it.

They sit there for a while, long enough for Glimmer’s eyes to grow heavy. She can’t help but resent Catra a bit – if she hadn’t _caught_ her, hadn’t started making _assumptions_ —

 _About what?_ What assumptions are there to make? She loves Bow, and she knows, despite the creeping doubt in the back of her mind, that he loves her. They’ve never _defined_ it, but do they have to? After everything they’ve been through, what’s a label to it? She knows she feels – _safe_ – around him. Even the feeling of being suspended in space, lungs collapsing under the pressure of _nothing_ , skin searing, _alone,_ didn’t feel as bad as having him hate her, for whatever reason, for however long.

“You done?” asks Catra, idly, after a while. She’s sharpening her claws on a knife – Glimmer has no idea when she got one – knows without a doubt she’s doing it to piss her off. It’s one of the good knives, too, sharp and gleaming prettily. “Identity crisis over, _Your Majesty_?”

“Um,” says Glimmer, “um, yeah – I think so,” surprised to realize it’s true.

“Great,” says Catra. “Watching you freak out over _Bow_ was getting old. That’s so stupid.” She snorts a little, shaking her head. “Have you met yourselves? Like, _ever_?”

“I could say the same for _you_.” Glimmer nudges her. “You have no _idea_ how much sense it all made when we realized that you two were _in love_ this whole time. No idea.”

“What can I say,” Catra says, squinting at her nails as she studies them. Her cheek twitches. “I’m a sucker for drama.”

Glimmer laughs, and, ridiculously, feels the sudden urge to hug her.

So, she does, sliding her arms around her shoulders and pulling her as close as she can, awkward angle and all. Catra lets out a small grunt of protest – “hey, come on now, don’t be going all _soft_ on me” – but pats her gamely on the back. When Glimmer pulls back, she’s blushing a little, but not actively pushing her away, and that’s a win in Glimmer’s book. A small one, in a string of many, many failures and shockingly bad decisions, but Glimmer decides she’s not going to dwell on those (for now).

Catra clears her throat. “Uh, you do realize I’m holding a _knife_ , right?”

“Doesn’t matter,” says Glimmer, brightly. “We both know you can do more damage without it.”

“Pretty brave, Sparkles,” says Catra, mildly, “trusting I wouldn’t stab you immediately.”

“That’s more _Adora’s_ style. Does she still have her—”

“—pillow dagger? Yeah, duh. This is _Adora_ we’re talking about.”

They laugh, and Glimmer feels her anxiety slowly ebbing away with every breath. Catra’s warm beside her, nibbling absently on her desserts, lost in thought. Glimmer fights another rush of affection, lest she hug her again or something – this is _still_ Catra, she remembers, both fond and rueful – and stands up, offering her a hand.

“Come on. I’m beat. I _need_ to sleep.”

“Nah, you go on without me.”

“Won’t Adora worry?”

“Won’t Bow?”

Glimmer bites back a snarky retort (what she likes to _think_ would be a snarky retort, but her brain’s fried, too many emotions, too many variables weighing down on her), and just shakes her head. “ _We_ don’t sleep in the same room.”

Catra grunts softly. “Really? Maybe you should. It does wonders, let me tell you.” She raises her eyes, fixes them (Glimmer suspects) on the side of her neck again. “Although _you_ seem to be doing fine,” she snickers, “huh, Sparkles?”

Glimmer feels herself flush again and lifts a hand to absently rub at the bruise on her neck – and _wow_ , she thinks, a little mystified, a little warm, heart skipping a beat at the reminder. Just hours ago, she was with him, lost in their own world. It’s still strange. They’ve been friends _forever_ , and yet—

This is completely different. Completely new. _Safe,_ she reminds herself. Bow is safe. He’s more than safe. _If Catra and Adora can do it, then—_

It stands to reason that _they_ can, too.

“Hey, Catra?” Glimmer says. Catra hasn’t made a move to get up.

Catra cuts her a suspicious glance, sensing the sudden turn of emotion in Glimmer’s voice. “Yes, Glimmer?”

“You’re a good friend.”

Glimmer expects Catra to call her an idiot, maybe even attack her to get the point across. But Catra just snorts. “Meh,” is her response, not quite as level as she’d like. “I mean – _whatever_.”

Glimmer smiles down at her. “It’s nice to know you _care_ about me,” she teases. “About Bow, too. About all of us, even. It’s _really_ sweet.”

“Oh, don’t get your hopes up. If it weren’t for Adora, I’d totally have ditched you all by now.”

 _I know._ Glimmer doesn’t doubt it. But still, actions speak louder than words, and if it weren’t for Adora, Glimmer wouldn’t even _be_ here – she’s under no illusion Catra saved her for _her_ , isn’t in the way of lying to herself – but.

But it’s a good start anyway, Glimmer likes to think. “Well, don’t even think about it,” she says, channeling authority in her voice as best as she can, mollified when Catra has the grace to look up. Glimmer smiles tightly. “Don’t even _think_ about trying to leave. Or we’ll just hunt you down.”

“And what?” snorts Catra. “ _Lock me up_? A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Probably, but—”

“You are _so_ full of shit,” Catra says, shaking her head. “Really, it’s—”

“Careful,” Glimmer warns, “I could _totally_ lock you up now if you’d like.”

“Yeah, and then _save_ me in the next breath,” Catra counters. “You and Arrow Boy and _Adora_ – you just don’t know when to quit. It’s amazing, really, how you survived as long as you did.”

Glimmer starts to grin. “Well, you know _why_ , don’t you?”

Catra eyes her warily, getting to her feet. “No,” she says, flatly. “No, don’t you _dare_ —”

“ _The power of friendship, of course_!”

And with that, Glimmer’s flinging her arms around her again – and okay, Catra actually _hisses_ , and maybe she’s gone too far this time, but it’s _nice_ , and who would have ever thought? _Sorry, Mom,_ Glimmer has a half a mind to think, laughing as Catra squirms in her grip, muttering under her breath about _idiots, I swear to god, I am surrounded by idiots_ , but it’s half-hearted and lacks any real substance. Glimmer takes a claw to the stomach – and _ouch_ , it hurts, okay, a little less friendly than she’d like – but she’s still giggling by the time she lets go of her, a little hysterical, a little tired, and incredibly relieved.

“Idiot,” Catra mutters again.

“Yeah,” Glimmer grins, winded. “Sure.”

“Ugh – I should gut you, just for that.”

“Adora would be pissed.”

“ _Bow_ would be pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry. Might be interesting. We should try it.”

“You don’t want Bow mad at you,” Glimmer reassures her. “It’s not fun. It’s its own hell.”

“I mean, if you say so.”

Glimmer feels her laughter dissolve, burrowing under the silence of the castle. She glances towards a high window, is vaguely relieved to note it’s still dark out. It feels like they’ve been here for _hours_. She doesn’t like the idea of losing anymore sleep. She has to get up tomorrow, go complete her adult, queenly duties, try to get the world back on track after it’d teetered so dangerously close to the edge. She thinks about her mom, all their arguments, the mixture of disappointment and exasperation and pride that imbued every last reprimand, all the ways she’d make Glimmer feel small, stupid, foolish – a child playing at a hero, _commander_ , even, like that ever meant anything. Like it all ever mattered when she’s still gone.

 _What do you think, Mom,_ she thinks wryly, as she and Catra wordlessly slip out of the kitchens, back out into dimly-lit corridors. _Am I doing a good enough job now?_

There’s no answer – of course there isn’t. They pass by the mural – Queen Angella and King Micah, larger than life, expressions muted, roles twisted and reversed – but neither of them says anything. Catra keeps her eyes fixed on their path, hands folded behind her head, all careful grace. Glimmer glances up at her mom, feels the pain pool like oil in her gut. _Would you be proud?_

“Hey.” Catra stops her before she can enter her room. Glimmer turns to her. She’s ready for anything – more teasing, maybe actual reproach for daring to hug her – but Catra grimaces in a way that makes Glimmer think she’s _smiling_ , or trying to, and it’s endearing enough that Glimmer could squeal.

Except she doesn’t because she values her flesh.

“What?” Glimmer asks, arching a brow. “No more making fun of me?”

“Oh, I’m always making fun of you,” Catra tells her, nodding solemnly. “I never stop. You’re too easy.”

“Then… what is it?” Glimmer feels a smile twitch across her lips, tilting her head to the side. “You about to say something _cheesy_ , Catra?”

“Not on your life,” says Catra, coolly. “The whole ‘Best Friend Squad’, power of friendship, sparkle, sparkle business – yeah, that’s not my style. No offense.” _Full offense_ is heavily implied.

“I don’t believe you,” Glimmer trills, opening the door to her room and throwing her a smirk over her shoulder. “Miss _my love saved the whole universe_.”

“That was all Adora,” says Catra, but she’s averted her gaze, ears twitching on top of her head, expression all soft and adorable and _so_ _embarrassing_. Glimmer wishes she had Bow’s camera – wishes he were awake to _see_ this. She’ll have to settle for telling him – tomorrow. _First thing in the morning._

She could always go back to his room, be as quiet as possible, and he wouldn’t mind it, even if she woke him up, but—

 _Tomorrow_. Just – tomorrow.

“And you,” Glimmer reminds Catra, lest she forget.

“Whatever. Listen – Sparkles—”

“Aw, you _are_ about to say something cheesy!” Glimmer coos.

“Am _not_ ,” says Catra, flatly. “Listen, I’m just trying to—”

“It’s _all right_ , Catra. I always knew you were a big softie on the inside.” Glimmer places a hand over her heart. Okay, maybe she’s more ready to die than she’d previously thought. So be it – she can totally take Catra on. “You don’t _have_ to _hide_ it, Catra, just—”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Catra growls, “will you just shut up for five seconds, _please_?” Glimmer does, miming zipping her lips closed and smiling wider still.

Catra shuffles awkwardly on her feet, then takes a deep breath and says, “I was just going to ask you _not_ to tell Adora about this,” and Glimmer feels herself deflate a bit, realization dawning on her.

“Oh.”

“It’s not a big deal,” says Catra, not looking at her, voice strained. “Just – you know. Keep it between us.”

Glimmer’s tone sharpens as she asks, “We’re not having an _affair_ , are we?” and Catra bristles, snapping her head up to glare at her.

“Ugh, _no_ , of course not!” She shudders. “Like I’d _ever_!”

“So… why should I keep it a secret?” 

“Just – because I _asked_ you to. Nicely!”

“ _Nicely_?” Glimmer echoes doubtfully. “You and I have very different definitions of _nice,_ Catra.”

“Oh, just—”

“ _Now_ who’s getting all riled up?”

“Are you – are you messing with me?” Catra demands. “Do you really wanna go there?”

“You think you _scare_ me, Catra?”

“Just – do as I ask, _okay_?” Catra does her best to look terrifying – and it’s not that Glimmer can’t believe it, can’t remember the mask and the badge and the smell of blood, _She-Ra’s_ blood more often than not – or even the terrifying click as the end edged ever closer, reality falling apart.

It’s just that she’s tired and she likes to think Catra wouldn’t hurt her, after all this time – after everything. Maybe, before Horde Prime – before her mother. But now? _She wouldn’t dare_. It’s a terrifying thought – leaves her breathless, reeling, shame curling at the anticipation that builds at the realization.

Glimmer ignores all this. She looks her in the eye, holding her ground.

Catra glares back – defiant, _always_ defiant despite everything – her breathing ragged in the dark. Then, finally, she says, “ _Please_ don’t tell her,” and it’s not a plea, not a request, still more a demand than anything, and Glimmer realizes that, whatever Catra and Adora have – she and Bow have always been in the periphery of it, have never understood it fully.

She thinks she doesn’t want to understand it. It’s not her place to.

“Fine,” she says, sternly. “I _won’t_ tell her. _This time._ ”

“Great,” Catra says, voice dripping sarcasm. “Awesome. That is _so_ nice of you.”

“Yeah, it _is,_ actually. But Catra?”

“ _What_ , Glimmer?” Catra grits out.

 _Get your shit together,_ Glimmer wants to say, but doesn’t, because she likes to think she’s many things, but a hypocrite isn’t one.

Glimmer feels herself softening – sees Catra’s eyes widening as she realizes it too, taking a step backwards, shoulders hunching up. “Oh no,” _now_ she begs, half-desperate, voice quivering, “oh, _please_ do not go there, Glimmer, I am asking you nicely, _please_ do not—”

“I’m here.” Glimmer goes there. She goes there _hard._ “If you ever need someone to listen—”

“ _Yeesh_ ,” Catra shudders, shaking her head over and over, backing away. “Nu-uh. No way. I am not – _no._ Not doing this. Not with _you_.”

“I’m a great listener!” Glimmer calls after her angrily, as Catra slips away into the night, actually _running away_ from her, _what the hell_? “Hey – did you hear that? I’m the best damn listener there is, I’ll have you know!”

Catra calls something out – it sounds like an insult. “Hey, fuck you, too!” Glimmer shouts back. The shouting kind of defeats the purpose of not telling Adora, but Catra started it so _she’ll_ have to deal with it.

There’s a breath of laughter – faint, muted under the guise of darkness – and then the world descends into silence again. It’s never completely silent – the hum of magic now coating every corner of Etheria, especially powerful in Bright Moon, does a well enough job of blighting all the sharp edges, smoothing over what’s left of fear and Prime’s own doing, overflowing any lingering tension. It’s not enough, Glimmer knows – not for _them_ , not for Adora especially, not for the whole universe – but for now, it’ll have to do. Her dad’s cautiously optimistic they _can_ do this – and if he can believe in any sort of untainted future, after everything he’s been through, Glimmer likes to think _she_ can, too. She’s nothing if not stubborn.

 _Tomorrow,_ she repeats, as she ports straight into her bed, blinking up tiredly at ceilings bearing childhood relics she’s never bothered to get rid of, speckled stars gleaming weakly above, indents in the ceiling from where she’d forced her powers too much. Her mother’s clothes, neatly stacked in her closet, even though they’ll never fit her. They still smell like her, she knows.

I can do this, she tells herself, half-believing, half-asleep. She allows this feeling – giddy, _warm_ , almost entirely too much – to carry her through, break through every last gnawing doubt or fear in her mind.


End file.
